Blue Fire 6
Blue Fire 6 is an encounter in Kingdom Aflame. Enemies * Royalist Militia Mage (Blue Fire 6) (150 Gold, 150 XP, 150 Energy, 4 HP) * Royalist Militia Cleric (Kingdom Aflame) (150 Gold, 150 XP, 150 Energy, 4 HP) Transcript Introduction Even Chumgrak grimaced when they came to the gateway. The fighting had moved on by the time they arrived, penetrated deeper into the city, but the remains of the feast were there to greet them. Dozens of corpses littered the ground. Severed limbs and heads, trunkless torsos, and whole bodies lay smashed and trampled -- some ground into a mangled mess that defied identification. Vomit rose at the back of Nevis' throat. He tried to swallow it down, but it was no use. He doubled over and retched. A viscous pink and orange torrent gushed from his mouth and nose, till he thought his splattered organs must be falling out along with it. Ryli caught his arm. A warm, glowing hand stroked his cheek, and sweet, incongruous fragrances soothed his nostrils. The boy looked at the orc and half-elf, expecting mockery. But neither said a word. They merely waited until he was ready. Then the four of them entered Ralmarthan. *** "Spears!" the captain said. "Spears!" The men and women of the city militia formed up across the street, blocking it almost from side to side, choking the passage save for a little sliver. A woman scurried through that narrow channel, herding perhaps a dozen children before her. A forest of shafts and points wavered in front of the formation. "Captain Laean!" Someone yanked on her tabard. She turned around, shrugging the hand away. "What is it? We... Mayor Tarringan!" Crimson stained the noblewoman's blue tunic. That same hue daubed her cheeks in long, broad smears. Seneschal Taerwyn was behind her mistress -- eyes darting in each direction like a startled animal's. "You're wounded!" the captain said. "It's not mine. Give me a spear." "What-" "If Varnbrook can give his life defending our city, so can I!" "Milady!" Taerwyn grabbed her sleeve. "You can't-" "The magistrate's dead?" Captain Laean reeled as though struck. "We can't let them take Ralmarthan!" Hortensia said. "We won't. But you... You can't..." The captain glanced at the children. "Mayor Tarringan, find somewhere safe for the kids." "I-" "We're letting them through, but if we can't hold the rebels here..." Hortensia looked at the young, terrified faces. "Come with me!" she said. The mayor, the wild-eyed seneschal, and the children ran down the street. Laean sighed. She picked up her spear and took her place in the line. *** "Archer!" Chumgrak said. "I see her!" Nevis said. The bowwoman stood atop a building, outlined against the darkening sky like a vengeful spirit. Purple ribbons fluttered from her left arm and bespoke her proud allegiance. Two bodies lay in the street, both with arrows in their chests. Those kills had put a dozen more rebels to flight. They ran down the street, hurtling away from the four companions. The archer fired again. A gnome dropped from the pack and tumbled, screaming. "Help! Help!" A couple of the rebels stopped, took one glance at him, and carried on running. The bowwoman's next arrow thudded into his torso and brought a fresh scream. Nevis' sling spun. The archer looked round, either catching him in the corner of her vision or sensing his presence. She notched an arrow. His bullet flew. Her head snapped back. Bow and arrow dropped from her hands. The archer rolled down the tiles, plummeted off the roof, and fell into the street. The four of them ran towards the gnome. He was moaning now, instead of screaming. A dark red puddle spread around him like an aura. "Through the lung," Chumgrak said. "Can you..." Ryli shook her head. The gnome spluttered. A low, rough breath rasped between his lips. His body twitched once, then was still. Conclusion "Take the rooftops!" Theadric says. "The roofs!" The nearest rebels turn to him. But his voice doesn't carry far amid the shouts, screams, and clamoring steel. His wise advice goes unheeded. Swordsmen charge, and do little more than impale themselves on militia spears. Meanwhile mages stand atop the buildings on either side and rain down death. Spells in all the colors of the rainbow burst among your comrades, psychedelic fury that leaves bodies seared or blackened. "We'll have to do it ourselves," you say. Theadric nods. He sheathes his sword and jumps up to grab a windowsill. You stow your weapons, run across the street, and do the same -- clambering up the wall till you can pull yourself onto the grey tiles. A mage in burgundy robes whirls round when you appear beside him. Scarlet light erupts from his hands, illuminating his face in demonic hues. A kick sends him into the street below. Three swords are in him a second after he lands. Across the way, Theadric's faring just as well. He ducks a fireball -- which flies off into the night, roaring in impotence -- darts forward, and brings his sword up in a rising slash that opens a goblin wizard from groin to neck. "Rebel bastards!" a hoarse female voice cries. Further along the rooftops, an ancient, grey-haired woman hurls a tile down into the press of rebel fighters. It smashes against the side of an elf's head. He collapses and disappears among the stamping boots. The woman's wrinkled face creases in a grim smile. "Get out of Ralmarthan!" She bends down, yanks up another tile, and raises it overhead. You run towards her, using the swift, steady steps the assassin master drilled into you so long ago. Even the angled, rickety surface underfoot doesn't slow you. She turns, stares at you with eyes which must have seen at least eighty winters, but are as fearless and determined as any you've ever met. She throws the tile. You knock it away with your palm, and she swears like a pirate. Two more springing strides bring you close. You reach out to grab hold of her, to restrain her and bring her down unharmed. But something glints in the corner of your eye. She gurgles, claws at the knife embedded in her neck, and totters off the roof. Her body vanishes in the melee, swallowed by the war. Category:Kingdom Aflame